MONKS’ ROBES

Sew one monk’s robe for the old farmer

one for the naughty child

one for the village woman

another for the wanderer

Leave home when young, step by step

seeking the scriptures’ patterns

for a pair of hands, eyes,

a new head, a new heaven and earth

Thousands of heartbeats, stitch by stitch

Mend invisible robes

for the hateful

the greedy

the ignorant

for those of endless worry

Set out in all directions,

sew the self into a robe,

a shell of mortal doctrine

inverting the human

within empty seams

When finally it’s time, descend

cross-legged into a clay pot,

glazed skin reflecting

long hair, beard highlighting

the robes that seal one life

into a relic finally pure